


Implausible

by thejabberwock



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 13:32:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9659528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejabberwock/pseuds/thejabberwock
Summary: Q doesn't quite know what to make of a cuddly James Bond.





	

Q startles as strong arms wrap around his waist, but he manages not to drop the teapot he’s holding. 

“Morning,” Bond murmurs against his ear. 

“Morning…” Q returns, hoping he doesn’t sound as surprised as he feels. A cuddly Bond is not something he’s ever pictured. Not that Bond is cuddling him, although the way his nose is pressing beneath his ear could certainly be classified as nuzzling.  

James Bond is nuzzling his neck.  It must be an effect of the sex; post-coital high not entirely faded.  Of course Bond would have time-released endorphins. Q is positive his adrenal gland works the same way. 

Gently, he extracts himself. Wouldn’t want to startle a double oh still high on orgasm-induced endorphins. But like a magnet, Bond latches on again once he’s settled the teapot on the stove.  

“You smell nice,” he says into the side of Q’s throat, and that seems so implausible that Q can’t help but laugh. 

“I smell like sex and cigarettes.” 

“Which is why you smell so nice.” A series of soft kisses down his neck.  “Care for a blowjob before breakfast?” 

And the magnetized agent suddenly makes sense. This is Bond, eager for one more go before he fucks off for greener pastures–or at least new ones. 

“I’m making tea,” Q points out, unsteadily because Bond has added teeth to the mix.  He’s a fast learner. But then he would be, for as many people as he beds. 

Bond’s hand slips beneath his shirt, pinky skimming just beneath the waistband of his pyjamas. “There’s a blowjob on offer,” he murmurs against Q’s ear. “Do you really want to make tea?” 

Put like that… 

“I suppose the tea can wait,” Q says gruffly, already half hard.  He can feel Bond’s smile. The teasing hand slips beneath his waistband, finds his cock and Q leans into Bond’s chest, closes his eyes as he’s stroked expertly.  

“Turn around,” Bond orders quietly and without even thinking about it, Q obeys. Bond grins at him, quick and bright before dropping to his knees. Startled, Q opens his mouth to ask him what the hell he’s doing but the question quickly melts into a groan as Bond tugs his waistband down to nuzzle at his cock. 

This is the sort of nuzzling he expects from James Bond. 

The drag of his tongue as well, warm and wet over his balls before moving on to his dick.  He’s very good at this. He doesn’t realise he’s said it out loud until Bond hums, vibrations around his cock that make Q’s toes curl into the lino.

He latches onto either side of Bond’s head, scratching lightly because he seemed to enjoy that when he sucked him off the night before. Bond lifts his eyes, the bright blue mesmerizing and Q finds his hips arching without his permission.  

Bond’s cheeks hollow, tongue cupping his dick, encouraging the moans as he blows him as enthusiastically as he performs every other sexual act–several of them in Q’s bed only hours ago.  And damn it, he isn’t going to last long.  Not if Bond continues lapping at his slit.  Especially not if he continues playing with his balls, finger pressing just behind until Q’s legs are shaking.  

He comes, swearing and probably marking divots in Bond’s scalp, but he doesn’t seem to mind.  His tongue keeps up its efforts, drawing the orgasm from him and swallowing without missing a beat. 

And after he pulls off, he smiles up at Q, thumbs moving idly against his thighs.  Q gazes down at him, brain half encased in a post-orgasmic fog.  He thinks he means to tug Bond up, perhaps suggest a shag over the kitchen table, but his legs feel like jelly and his mouth won’t obey.

Bond solves the problem by putting his pyjamas to rights and straightening, holding onto Q the entire time.  And once he’s up, Q lets himself relax into his arms, because he can see that Bond wants to kiss him. Bond is extremely fond of kisses, even if they’re purely precursors to sex.  

But these don’t seem to be.  Bond’s lips are soft against his, gentle as he pulls Q close.  There’s no urgency, although there should be. Q can feel his erection. 

“Fuck me?” Q suggests against his mouth, still half breathless.  

“Mm,” Bond agrees. “If you like. After I feed you.” 

Thinking it’s an innuendo, Q echoes, “Feed me?” 

“Breakfast,” Bond reminds him with a smile. “And tea.” He kisses Q’s nose before he pulls away to turn the stove on.  Takes two mugs from the cupboard, without any searching and Q doesn’t even think to question how he knew where to find them. He is a double oh after all. 

“Toast?” Bond asks. “Or eggs? Both?” 

“Toast,” Q murmurs, confused all over again. He watches Bond put bread into the toaster, watches him root through the refrigerator for the marmalade. And once he’s spreading it on a diagonal of toast while the teapot whistles, Q decides he’ll let him himself enjoy this unexpected Bond.  For as long as he stays. Even if it’s just through one more round of fucking. 

He brings the boiling water over and Bond smiles at him. 

“There’s a new exhibit at the National Gallery,” he says.  “You’ll like it. Apparently, it’s just paintings of really old ships.” 

Q glances at him, at the teasing glint in his eyes. 

“Being hauled away for scrap?” Q asks, smiling as well. 

“Not all of them. At least one has a little life left in it.” 

“Only a little?” Q asked innocently, because he likes the amused glare Bond aims at him. 

“More than enough for you,” he says with a pointed glance for Q’s arse, which is still sore from their enthusiastic fucking. He seems to enjoy the heat that dusts Q’s cheeks at the memory. “Would you like to go?” 

“Yes.” 

Bond’s smile is contagious.  

Maybe a cuddly James Bond isn’t as implausible as he thought. 

Smiling, Q bites off the corner of the toast triangle Bond is offering.  And then he kisses him with sticky lips, enjoying the soft laughter as much as the kiss.


End file.
